


Slowly Turning into You

by Ellen Smithee (ellensmithee)



Series: Downward Spiral [1]
Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Bloodplay, Compulsion, Dark, Dark!Stefan, Dubious Consent, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-17
Updated: 2011-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-18 06:16:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellensmithee/pseuds/Ellen%20Smithee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stefan sets out to save Damon with unexpected results. Part 1/2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slowly Turning into You

Stefan looked through the window in the door of the cell, studying Damon as he lay on the cot. He was weak from the vervain flowing through his veins and the lack of blood, but the taut set of his shoulders told Stefan that he was furious. Stefan's fingertips rubbed at the moisture on his palms. A part of him hated locking Damon up like this, but it had to be done. He couldn't risk letting his brother out, not yet. Not until he'd received word from John Gilbert that Elena was safely hidden away.

"Just a few more days," he murmured, more to himself than the man in the cell. The danger of Klaus was passed, but as long as Elena was here, the risk posed by the two brothers would be ever-present.

Damon raised his gaze to meet Stefan's, contempt clear on his face. His lips hardly moved as he mouthed the words, but Stefan read the message clearly. "Kill you."

Stefan gazed at Damon evenly.

"You'll have your chance soon enough."

Soon it wouldn't matter if he lived or died. No matter what, Elena would be safe and neither Damon nor any other vampire would be able to harm her.

~o~O~o~

Three days later, Stefan finally received a text message from John that Elena was safe and sound and ready to start their new life. Switching off his phone, he went into the kitchen, filled a plastic bottle with blood, and then headed down to the cellar. When he reached the door to the cell, he hesitated for a moment, considering whether he should incapacitate Damon before entering, but then dismissed the thought. Stefan had no intention of stopping his brother from taking out his frustrations on him--as long as it kept him distracted from finding Elena.

He unlocked the door and pulled it open, his eyes on Damon as he walked in.

"Here." He held out the bottle of blood when he got within Damon's reach.

Damon only glared in return, reaching up and swiping the bottle from Stefan's hand.

"See you brought your own death warrant with you," he said, his voice hoarse from disuse. He raised the bottle to his lips and threw his head back.

Stefan watched a thin rivulet of blood spill down Damon's cheek, over his jaw, trailing slowly down his throat. It was entirely intentional, Stefan knew. He swallowed hard and then forced his eyes up to Damon's face.

"You won't kill me," he said with quiet certainty.

"That's your problem, little brother," Damon said, licking his lips as he perked up on the cot. "You've got too much trust in people." But the words lacked his usual venom.

Stefan shrugged.

"Maybe. You're free to go."

He straightened up and then turned his back pointedly on Damon, bracing himself inwardly for an attack as he headed for the door.

"Just leave the door unlocked this time," Damon called after him, and Stefan heard his brother sink back down to the cot.

~o~O~o~

Stefan jerked awake, immediately alert. He peered into the darkness of his bedroom, searching for whatever--or whoever--had disturbed his sleep, but he could see and hear nothing. His hand slid silently along the bottom of his mattress where he'd hidden a stake. He froze when he realized it was gone, and his stomach tightened.

"You really shouldn't leave these things lying around," Damon said, standing in front of the window. "Someone could walk right in and drive it through your heart." He looked over at the bed. "And then I'd have to figure out what to do with the body, and I'm getting really sick of that."

He tossed the stake onto a chair and walked over to the bed.

"You took her someplace _safe_?" The last word dangled in the air between them, swelling with sarcasm.

Stefan lay still as he watched his brother, his whole body tense.

"John did. And before you ask, I don't know where he took her. And I never will."

"You're lying," said Damon, and he sank down to the bed beside Stefan, the mattress depressing beneath his weight. He stared up at the ceiling, lying so still that Stefan wondered if he hadn't left all of his fight down in that basement cell.

"I'm not," he said insistently. He rolled onto his side and gazed down at his brother, resisting the urge to lay his hand on Damon's chest. "No more lies. I promise."

Damon snorted, but his expression didn't change. "Whatever," he said, listlessly. He turned his head only slightly, his gaze catching Stefan's.

"I wouldn't have hurt her. Not ever."

Stefan nodded.

"I know," he said, his voice gentle. "But she deserved better. Better than to be chased by Originals and werewolves and witches. Better than _us_."

"Better than _you_ ," Damon said, a tremor running over his jaw as he looked back at the ceiling. He was breathing hard, and when he licked his lips, a soft, broken sound came from the back of his throat.

Stefan squeezed his eyes shut, the pain almost too much to bear all of a sudden.

"Yeah," he whispered. He lowered his head to Damon's shoulder, curling up next to him as he slid his arm around Damon's chest.

Damon stiffened at first, then one arm snaked around Stefan's shoulders, pulling him in, until the grip was almost suffocating.

"I'll destroy you," Damon said quietly. "You know that, don't you? Why do you want that? Why the hell are you still here?"

Stefan inhaled deeply through his nose.

"You're my brother," he murmured as if that explained everything. _I'm responsible for you. I love you._

Damon made a hard, dismissive noise, but a moment later, reached up to touch Stefan's hair. His fingers moved across Stefan's scalp in slow, gentle strokes until long after Stefan fell asleep.

~o~O~o~

A few weeks passed, and Stefan was getting nervous. He'd _hoped_ that Damon would stick around, but he hadn't really _expected_ it. According to Alaric and Caroline, he hadn't tried to question any of the others about Elena's disappearance yet, not even Jenna and Jeremy, who had no idea where John had taken Elena anyway. On the one hand, Stefan was relieved, but on the other... it was unsettling.

Stefan was sitting in the living room reading a book when he heard Damon's car drive up in front of the house. Soon after, Damon stalked into the room, throwing himself down on the couch and casting a longing look at the decanter of bourbon, as if he wished he'd thought of that before sitting.

"So, you up for a little fun tonight?" he asked, sounding a bit like the old Damon. Stefan wasn't sure if he felt relief or dread at that prospect.

Stefan looked up from his book.

"What _kind_ of fun?" he asked, unable to keep the suspicion out of his voice.

Damon shrugged. "A little drinking, a little partying, a little... murder and mayhem." He waited for Stefan's glare before adding, "All right, _maybe_ we can skip the murder part. I invited some people over. It'll be fun." He smirked. "Don't worry, they're all expendable types."

Stefan stared at Damon for a moment, his eyes wide. He breathed shallowly as he tried not to panic. He opened his mouth to rail at Damon, to tell him he wasn't going to allow it, but then he shut it again. If this was what Damon needed, what could it hurt? As long as Stefan played along, he could be there to keep Damon under a modicum of control if things went wrong.

"All right," he said slowly. "But _definitely_ no murder."

Damon just watched him for a moment, and Stefan had the distinct impression that Damon was expecting him to prohibit the party entirely. It was a silent challenge; no matter how many times Stefan laid out the boundaries, Damon always had to push.

"Spoil sport," he said finally. "Fine. No murder. Of course, if someone's _asking_ me to take a drink..."

Stefan sighed and set down his book.

"And no compulsion either."

At Damon's eyeroll, Stefan pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going to be a long night.

~o~O~o~

Damon's idea of a party left a lot to be desired; especially the lack of concern over the mess that spread over the entirety of the first floor as the guests filed out. Stefan started to stuff a few red plastic cups into a large trash bag, then tossed it aside, sighing in annoyance. He'd be better off just hiring someone to come in and clean tomorrow.

"Damon," he called out, heading toward the kitchen.

He stopped short in the doorway, the scene in front of him making no sense for a moment. Damon pulled off Alaric's throat with a satisfied groan and didn't turn around to look at Stefan.

"I'm eating," he said. "Can this wait?"

Stefan's stomach just plummeted as Damon turned back to Alaric, whose body stiffened and then relaxed against Damon again as Damon resumed his feeding. Alaric let out a wanton little moan, and something twisted inside of Stefan. Rushing forward, he grabbed Damon and pulled him off Alaric, throwing him across the room.

Alaric's eyes widened.

"Oh, hey," he said with a nervous laugh, giving Stefan a self-deprecating grin. "It's okay, Stef. I _asked_ Damon to do it."

Alaric blushed then and Stefan took a step forward, meaning to check to see if Damon had compelled him, despite Alaric's claim. But then the delicious scent of Alaric's blood filled his senses and Stefan's gaze dropped to Alaric's neck. Damon's fangs had torn open his throat even more when Stefan had pulled him away, and blood was oozing out, thick and red and _tempting_.

"Stefan?" Alaric swayed slightly as he blinked at Stefan. "You okay?"

Stefan just growled and _threw_ himself onto Alaric, sinking his teeth into the other man's throat and drinking deeply. Alaric went rigid and then melted into Stefan with a soft groan, reaching up to run his fingers into Stefan's hair, cupping the back of Stefan's head gently as he drank.

"The _fuck_?" Damon hissed, grabbing Stefan by the shoulders and flinging him across the room brutally.

Stefan hit the wall, hard enough to shake him out of it, and barely registered Damon's words as he immediately started compelling Alaric into forgetting what had just happened. As Damon pressed his own wrist to Alaric's mouth, Stefan stumbled out of the kitchen and then up to his bedroom.

Once there, he shut the door firmly behind him, tearing off his clothes and scrubbing his face with his t-shirt, anxious to get the smell of Alaric and his blood off him. Filled with self-loathing, he threw himself onto his bed and curled up into a ball, shaking so hard that the bed frame rattled against the floor.

The door opened and Damon was in the bed so fast that Stefan barely had time to register. Damon had him by the shoulders, pinning him to the bed on his back, his grip strong as iron.

"What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?" Damon snarled.

Stefan screwed his eyes shut as he struggled against Damon's grip. Damon exhaled over his throat, his breath hot in spite of the chilling sound that rumbled through his chest, pressed hard against Stefan's.

"I did everything you wanted me to do," Damon said. "I was _good_ , Stefan. How fucking dare you make me pick up the pieces?"

Filled with panic, Stefan tried to buck his brother off him.

"Get out!" he snarled. "Leave me alone!"

Damon pressed down at the hips, grinding Stefan's body into the bed. Stefan went still, his stomach churning as he felt his groin start to tighten.

"I'm the one who gets to have the fucking breakdown," Damon said, his voice low and dangerous. "That's how it works, Stefan. You hold it together, and I kill people, and I fuck, and I do all sorts of evil shit that you don't even think about."

Stefan groaned and turned his head to the side.

"It wasn't always that way." His voice was barely audible, more of a breath of air than a whisper.

"I know," Damon said, and then his hand was sliding between their bodies, down Stefan's abdomen, and to his cock. "But it is now. You had no fucking right to interrupt me with Rick."

Stefan let out a sound deep in his throat as Damon touched his prick and he fisted his hands in his bedclothes to keep from pushing his erection into Damon's hand.

"No?" he said, his voice bitter. "What the fuck do you think you're doing with him?"

"I'm fucking him, Stefan," Damon said, and his teeth grazed smoothly over Stefan's throat, never breaking the skin. "And he's feeding me. And you know what? I fucking _like_ it. Warm blood, Stefan. _Real_ blood. It's good. It's really fucking good."

Stefan gasped at the images Damon's words evoked and he pressed his cock into Damon's hand. He could still taste Alaric on his lips and on his tongue, and such an intense longing for blood--in his teeth, in his throat--came over him that he couldn't bear it.

"Damon," he breathed, his jealousy of Alaric forgotten for the moment. "Please. I want... I _need_..."

"You need what?" Damon said, squeezing his cock. "Do you want me to do to you what I do to him? Do you want my cock down your throat, Stefan?"

Although his tone was combative, Damon shifted his weight, dragging his mouth down Stefan's bare chest. The fingers wrapped around Stefan's prick began to tremble, just slightly, but the message was clear: Damon wanted this just as much. _Needed_ it, too.

"Yeah," Stefan said, his voice shaking. "Fuck, let me suck you off, Damon."

Reaching between them, his hand found Damon's erection through his jeans and he gave it a squeeze.

Damon hissed, moving in the blink of an eye, and was suddenly on his back naked, pressing his cock into Stefan's hand. His eyes caught Stefan's for a moment, and they were clear, unguarded, and the desperation in them was so obvious that Stefan ached for a moment.

"Damon," he murmured.

He brushed his thumb over Damon's cheekbone and along his jaw and then trailed his fingers down the middle of Damon's chest. Keeping his eyes fixed on Damon's ice blue ones, he lowered his head and dragged his tongue from the base to the tip of his brother's cock.

Damon bucked up off the bed, the last pretenses of his usual "act" falling away as he wrapped Stefan's hair around his fingers.

"Oh, that's-- _fuck_."

Stefan gave his brother a smug grin and then ran his tongue around the tip, teasing a pearl of precome that had gathered from the slit before sliding his mouth down Damon's shaft, swallowing convulsively when Damon's prick hit the back of his throat. Damon's eyes fell closed and he pulled harder on Stefan's hair, his hips jerking off the bed in uneven rhythm. _This_ gave Stefan more power than the vervain. Certainly more power than Alaric held over Damon.

He could feel the pulse of Damon's blood under his tongue; he could _smell_ it, taunting him, tantalizing him. Grabbing Damon's cock around the base, he squeezed it and then sank his fangs into the vein on the underside, gasping as the taste of Damon's blood hit his tongue.

"Stef," Damon breathed. "You have to... Fuck. _Please_."

Damon whined, twisting his hips from side to side, anchoring himself in Stefan's hair.

Stefan opened his mouth, letting the blood drip down Damon's cock, and then dipped his finger into it, smearing it over the digit. Sealing his lips around Damon's prick once more, he sucked hard as his finger probed Damon's hole.

Damon growled as he started to come, and Stefan swallowed around his pulsing cock, drinking him in until Damon stopped bucking beneath him, finally falling back to the bed with a shuddering moan, pressing down almost lazily on Stefan's finger.

Stefan raised his head to meet Damon's eyes, his vision blurred by blood lust and carnal desire. Blood was dripping down his chin, but he made no move to lick his lips clean.

"Let me fuck you," he said, his voice commanding instead of begging.

The conflict was written all over Damon's face as he winced, shaking his head as he tried to argue, but then his shoulders slumped and he swallowed hard, nodded.

"Yeah. Stefan... Yeah."

"Oh, Damon," Stefan whispered.

His eyes fell closed for a moment as he tried to contain himself. Then he dragged his tongue down Damon's spent cock and then to the juncture of his thigh, sinking his teeth into the skin and puncturing femoral artery. Moving between Damon's legs, he gathered as much blood as he could before Damon healed and spread it over his prick, slicking it. Then he pulled Damon's leg's apart and raised Damon's hips, pushing inside slowly.

Once he was fully seated inside Damon, he fell forward, pressing his lips to his brother's ear.

"Ever let Rick do this to you?" he rasped.

Damon shivered violently, spreading his legs further beneath Stefan and hissing. Even as his body acquiesced, Stefan felt Damon's jaw go tense as he shook his head.

"Just fucking... God, fuck. Move. Stefan. Fuck me."

As he nuzzled Damon's jaw, Stefan grabbed both his wrists and pushed his hands over his head, entwining their fingers and then pinning Damon's hands to the bed. He started to move, thrusting hard and deep over and over as he mouthed Damon's skin.

Damon let Stefan hold him down, struggling without ambition, arching and pressing into every point of contact.

"You did this," Damon said, the words punctuated with a soft grunt. "You sent her away. You're the one who has to make it better."

Damon's words sliced into Stefan, sharp and bright, and he tightened his grip on his brother, his nails biting into the backs of Damon's hands, drawing blood.

"I'll make it better, I promise," he whispered fervently into Damon's ear. "If you let me. Please let me."

Damon whimpered, his head thrashing.

"Stef... Make me bleed." The words grew softer, almost inaudible, but Stefan _knew_ them anyway. "Bleed for you."

Stefan went still and then a low growl rumbled through his chest. He drew his teeth across Damon's jaw and then down his throat. He hesitated above the pulse point, blowing on it and then licking it lightly before plunging his fangs into the jugular.

The anguished cry ripped from his brother's lips had nothing to do with the teeth sinking deep into his throat. Damon wrapped his legs around Stefan, pulling him in deeper, clinging so intensely that Stefan couldn't tell if it was calculated or not. Damon didn't _give_ , not like this, not ever. But here, he was laid out and open and willing, and his vulnerability was addictive.

Stefan tore his fangs out of Damon's throat, the smell of his brother's blood enveloping him, and sank them in further down his shoulder, savagely, down to the bone. He wanted to bite Damon all over, to leave an indelible mark that Damon would always see and _know_ where he belonged, something that wouldn't heal over almost as soon as it was made.

He released Damon's shoulder from the grip of his jaws as his balls tightened.

"You're mine, Damon," he breathed as his whole body shuddered in release. " _Mine_."

Damon gasped, the breath hitching in his throat, and he struggled against Stefan, not to escape, but to draw himself closer still.

"This is what you wanted all along, isn't it?" Damon said, accusingly.

A denial jumped to Stefan's lips, but he pressed his mouth shut. He was the one who'd demanded no more lies, after all, and he figured he should start with the lies he told himself. Instead of speaking, he pressed his lips to Damon's, kissing him softly, but urgently, pouring a century and a half of feelings into it.

~o~O~o~

Alaric murmured his thanks as Stefan handed him a glass of bourbon and then Stefan went to stand by the fire as he waited for Damon to get in. Alaric had appeared early for his date with Damon, mainly due to the message Stefan had given him "from Damon" at school that day, and Stefan had done his best to make the man feel at home until Damon arrived.

Stefan didn't look up when he heard Damon's footsteps, not until his brother had come to a stop in the middle of the room. From his silence, Stefan guessed he'd just seen Alaric. He slowly turned to face Damon.

"Welcome home, brother."

Damon remained perfectly still just before the stairs, his gaze moving from Alaric to Stefan.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked softly.

Stefan flashed over to Damon and slid his arms around his brother's neck.

"I don't want to make the same mistake again," he said, stroking the back of Damon's neck with his fingers. "That we made with Katherine and Elena. We're sharing. Everything." He rubbed his bloodstained lips against Damon's so that he'd be able to taste Alaric on them. "Everyone."

Damon jerked his head back, pressing his lips together as his clear blue eyes searched Stefan's, pleadingly.

"No," he said, his expression hardening suddenly. "No, not this. Not him."

Stefan's eyes narrowed slightly, but then his lips twisted into a smile.

"It'll be fine, you'll see," he said cajolingly as he pulled Damon over to the couch. "Rick loves the idea, don't you, Rick?"

Alaric looked up at them and blinked slowly.

"Love it," he repeated.

Alaric gazed up at Damon with a look of longing that Stefan hadn't needed to compel and Stefan knew he'd chosen well. Alaric's hand grabbed Damon's and tugged on it, pulling him down onto the couch next to him. Settling on the other side of Alaric, Stefan reached over to push down Alaric's collar on the side facing Damon.

"Drink," he said.

"No," Damon said, the word little more than a breath. Then, more loudly, "No. Stefan, he's my friend." He wasn't even looking at Alaric.

"And I'm your brother," Stefan said, tilting his head. "You know me. Do you really think I'd ever hurt Alaric? He's my friend, too, Damon. I promise nothing will ever happen to him."

Damon looked back to Alaric, his gaze locking on to the other man's throat, and Stefan felt a moment of triumph.

"I didn't have to compel him," Damon said, shaking his head slightly, even as he leaned forward. "He wanted it."

Stefan frowned at the quick jab of guilt that Damon's words brought him, but he tamped it down viciously. Damon was his priority now--this might be his only chance to rebuild what they'd once had and he wasn't going to blow it.

He reached over and poked the existing bite wound, ignoring the grimace of pain on Alaric's face as he collected blood. He held out his finger to Damon, hovering just over his lips.

"Just a taste, Damon. Don't deny yourself this."

Damon closed his eyes and his lips trembled as they parted, his tongue darting out to lick the tip of Stefan's finger. He let out a puff of breath and then, with a small, defeated sound, sucked Stefan's finger into his mouth, one arm sliding around Alaric's shoulders.

Alaric moaned deep in his chest at Damon's touch and he moved closer to him.

"Damon," he whispered, his head falling back against the couch, offering his throat.

"Do it," Stefan said breathlessly, his mouth going dry. "Give him what he wants, Damon."

Damon opened his eyes, staring intently at Stefan for a moment.

"If you need to stop me, Stefan, and you don't..." He trailed off, his eyes darkening, and the unspoken threat was clear.

And then his fangs were out, and with a hiss, he latched on to Alaric's throat.

Stefan slung his arm around Alaric's shoulders, sliding his fingers into Damon's hair as his other hand released Alaric's erect cock from his jeans and started to stroke it. Contentment crept over him as he leaned back, watching his brother feed.

"Don't worry, Damon," he said softly. "I'll take care of you both."


End file.
